


you're just an attention seeker

by redbluegays



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Other, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27240751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbluegays/pseuds/redbluegays
Summary: lance is having dark thoughts, and feeling like an attention-seeker, and to prove to himself he isn't an attention seeker he does a bad thing. this is a langst self-harm one-shot ...
Kudos: 43





	you're just an attention seeker

**Author's Note:**

> if self-harm triggers you please don't read!! this fic is centered around self-harm!!! this is my first ever fic, I apologize if my writing is bad because it honestly probably is, this was just a vent I wrote through lance at like 2 am lolol, if you enjoy please leave a comment :)

Lance sat up straight in his twin bed his back being supported by the wooden bed frame. It was 2 am far past the time he should be asleep. He was focused on the images he found on google. He held his phone close to his eyes so he could examine the deep brutal cuts someone had sadly inflicted upon themselves. They covered the unknown person’s arms from bottom to top. These cute were deep, like _really_ deep. They left huge marks that this person would probably have to live with for their whole life. 

These cuts mocked Lance. They laughed at him. They laughed at his puny cuts he had been starting to give himself. They sat here from his phone laughing at the fact the scars would fade in a month because the cuts he had been giving himself were oh so small and minor. Lance pushed his hair out of his eyes as some nasty thought came flying into his mind. 

“You only cut yourself for attention, you’re an attention seeker, you know that” He verbally continued, lower than a whisper “You cut yourself so lightly, the scars aren’t even real scars, you’re an attention seeker. You’re a terrible person, you know that? People who cut themselves, are actually going through shit, they aren’t giving themselves small paper cuts just to catch someone’s eye, begging for someone to ask if they’re ok, you know that right?” 

He is at war with himself. 

Lance McClain hates everyone in his life. He hates his mom who always brings him down and emotionally abuses him, he hates his dad who’s presence alone gives him an unmeasurable amount of stress, he hates his older siblings for leaving him for their own lives- leaving him in this terrible, restricting, abusive home. He hates that his friends don’t even really care for him, and wouldn’t even realize if he were gone, but really the person he hated the most was himself. He hated that he has brung so much conflict and drama into everyone’s lives, he hates that he isn’t as good as his perfect older siblings, he hates that no one truly loved him and that he was a burden, he hated how he was annoying and unworthy of any form of love, he _truly_ hated himself. 

So every night for the past few months he had been going into his bathroom at 2 am only leading to him pulling his pants down and making the tiniest little cuts on his thighs. They stung and he would feel the cuts every time the fabric of his clothes touched his thigh when he walked, but it wasn’t enough. The stinging sensation would only last a few hours at most. Although he had never told anyone about this habit of his, he had fantasized about it countless times.

The thought of his friends accidentally finding out makes him smile. The shock that it would bring among them and all the support, love, and affection they would give. The attention they would give him. Despite how much he loves the thought of someone seeing these cuts he, knows he would never purposely expose himself. He is convinced he is a terrible, attention-seeking, horrible, person disregarding he would never intentionally use his cuts to get attention- it was all a fantasy really.

After seeing those deep cuts on his phone, and thinking some bad things, he felt emotionless. He wanted to cry- he really did, but he had lost the capability to cry a long time ago. The Cuban boy got up and sluggishly dragged himself to his bathroom, where he found his razor blade. He followed his daily routine for this part of the night. He pulled down his pants and sat down on the cold tile floor. The floor was disgustingly littered with hairs and lint, but he didn’t mind all too much. 

Normally when he cut he would make countless cuts into his thigh in a grid shape. He must’ve been making 50-100 cuts a night, but they would barely bleed of coarse being the shallow scratches they were. 

Tonight was different. He was determined to show himself he _wasn’t_ a faker and he wasn’t an attention seeker, because an attention seeker wouldn’t cut deeply and wouldn’t use this for attention. He was more driven into the idea of cutting himself piercingly deep than he has been about anything in a while. When he put the razor towards his skin, he stared at the blade as the nerves and anticipation built up to make himself squirm in pain. The adrenaline kicked in and he finally was about to do it. He pushed the blade into his skin- deeper than he usually would but not deep enough- and he continued to slide it making it a nice long fresh cut.

He felt it more than he thought he would if he was being honest. The 16-year-old assumed that it would’ve been less painful with all the adrenaline- and it probably was, but nonetheless, it stung much more than he was accustomed to. He smiled at the cut but was still not quite satisfied with the pain he inflicted on himself. He hadn’t felt this much in months, and he loved it, no he _craved_ it.

He cut himself again this time it was a lot faster. He had taken the blade and sliced it very quickly across his thigh. He cut again and again and again until the burn in his thigh had become so painful, that a tear had slid down his cheek. It was the most he had cried in a long time. 

He felt at peace and satisfied with what he had done to himself. He was truly happier than he had been in months. Clearly, he wasn’t an attention seeker he thought, but he couldn’t help wishing someone would text him, asking him if he was okay, he couldn’t help thinking how amazing it would feel to pour out his feelings and talk to someone. Like really talk to someone, not just making small talk and nodding his head- or even racking occasional jokes to make sure people weren’t bored of him yet. He really wanted to talk to someone- actually talk to someone.

He sat in the bathroom for the next hour as the blood seeped out hitting the floor. The cold floor was now warm, from the long hour he had been sitting there watching his blood drip out. The happiness the cuts and blood provided him was oh so shortlived. Lance wanted to cut himself again. He wanted to feel those great feelings again. He _needed_ to feel something.

**Author's Note:**

> wow! thanks for making it to the end, please comment any criticism are feedback :D I love reading comments it would mean a lot if u commented :) also I just wanted to let any fellow self-harmers here know that the depth of your cuts or the amount of pain you inflict on yourself cannot ever imply if you are a "faker" or an "attention seeker". Self-harm is Self-harm, and the bruises, burns, scars, etc don't make you any less valid!


End file.
